


Tis the Season for Invasions

by Nehszriah



Series: The Thick of UNIT [9]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas schmoop, F/M, Fluff, also an OC preview, but everyone's waiting so paitently for the main story so here's side-goodies, contains both work and family scenes, idk how far into their relationship this is, rated for Malcolm's language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmastime at UNIT and the inevitable invasions happen. Malcolm and Kate want none of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tis the Season for Invasions

**Author's Note:**

> I had a tumblr prompt that involved Malcolm/Kate and either Christmas schmoop or Christmas invasions. Going for the third option is always more fun. Takes place during an indiscriminate point post-hookup and contains Kate's daughter, who is purely an OC at this point in time. (Fun fact: Only Gordon has been mentioned in the TTOU main story because of me being afraid that the second kid Kate casually mentioned would be shown/mentioned in s9. They weren't.)

It was December 22nd, meaning that while many government-related jobs were long-off on holiday, UNIT was still nearly at full-staff. The following few days would see Mainframe UK being staffed by mostly the non-believers and those willing to work in exchange for the extra units of paid holiday chosen at their own will. Malcolm Tucker looked himself over in the mirror in his office, attempting to make sure that not a hair was out of place, nor were there any hairs on his warm jumper.

“Off wooing?” Aparajita asked blandly as she walked in, passing her boss. She placed some papers on his desk and shook her head as she watched him. “You do realize that there’s a history of invasions that occur on Christmas, yeah?”

“I explained away half of them and the other half I don’t even remember, so I think we’re safe,” he replied. He glanced at her via the mirror, catching the smug look on her face. “What? Can’t a man get his hopes up every once in a while without being treated like a pervert?”

“Well, how about: you _are_ a pervert, but the woman you’re after is an even bigger one. We went to a coworker’s stag night once—you really don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“If _that’s_ the case, then I’m enjoying the prospects more and more,” he smirked. “See you after lunch, yeah? Got to go over the thing about the things.”

“You mean the cover-up on the Saturnyne skeletons found off the Venetian coastline? I thought we had that covered.”

“Nah; don’t like the wording. It feels too apologetic.” He went over to the lift and entered it, giving his PA a smug grin as the doors closed. Once they opened again he was on Kate’s floor, where he was greeted by her assistant before heading on in to the sanctum, finding his lady-love at her desk, dutifully tapping on the computer keyboard.

“How’s it going? Are the kids behaving?” she asked, not turning away from her work.

“They know Santa’s coming tonight for all good little boys and girls, so they’re as rowdy as a gang of Skinheads,” he joked. She didn’t even let out a polite laugh, which made him frown. “What? Did you not get Fiona for Christmas this year?”

“I did, but she’s dragging along some ragamuffin she met at school,” Kate groused. “I don’t need her dragging random people into my house; never met him, or his parents, and I don’t know where he’s from or _anything_ , not to mention how _young_ she is…”

“Sounding a little old-fashioned, aren’t you Mam?” Malcolm chuckled. He walked around her desk and stood behind her, leaning down so he could rest his chin on her head and hug her from behind without forcing her out of the chair. “If you’re that old-fashioned, then why’d you shoot down the garters idea?”

“Because you haven’t _earned_ garters yet,” she replied. She then kept on working, allowing her beau to continue lavishing her with affectionate touches. He was nearly about to work the shoulder-rub down to her breasts when an alarm in the atrium went off.

“For fuck’s sake—every time I…” Malcolm growled, letting go of Kate. The two of them power-walked to the lift and took it to the atrium. No rest for the wicked, after all.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The train station was packed with people, moreso than on any normal sort of day. Many places had let out school or work, meaning that travelers were reaching their peak. It took Malcolm’s height to see, but he was eventually able to wave down a teenaged girl, who led a boy her age over to him and Kate.

“It’s good to see you, sweetie,” Kate sighed, giving her daughter a hug. “How have things been since the last time we talked?”

“Pretty much the same,” Fiona shrugged. She then took her companion by the hand and urged him to step forward. “Mum, this is Ken, my boyfriend. Ken, this is my mum and her boy-toy, Malcolm.”

Not missing a beat, the young man shook the adults’ hands congenially. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Stewart and Mister…?”

“Just Malcolm is fine,” the older man assured. He offered to take the teens’ bags, which they took him up on, and before long they had reached their car, the driver opening the door for them.

“Oh, hold on a second, please,” Ken apologized. “I need to call my mum and tell her I’m with you.” Fiona slid into the car, while Kate accompanied Malcolm to the boot.

“Alright, what’s that look for?” she demanded. “I’ve seen that look before; what’s wrong?”

“Nothing—just your daughter likes to keep friends in high places,” he replied. He let his eyes shift over towards Ken for a moment, watching him as he waited for his call to go through a few feet away. “His da’s a back-bencher, though not for long I’m guessing, and his mam’s the heiress to a real-estate empire. What kind of fucking school do you send her to, anyhow?”

“I’m not the one sending her, is the problem,” she said. Just then, both of their mobiles went off at once, which caused them to curse under their breath.

“Hart, you better give me a damn good reason why you’re bothering me now,” Malcolm snarled into the mouthpiece. “I’m at the fucking station.”

“ _Obviously not the one that is currently being blown up by unregistered spacecraft that seem Atraxi in make, but definitely are not being **flown** by Atraxi_.”

“…of all the jessie…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed, knowing that this was definitely an emergency worth going into work for. “I’ll pop on over as soon as I can, yeah? Don’t go breaking intergalactic treaties without me.” Hanging up the mobile, he turned towards Kate, who had also ended her call. “That was Hart…”

“…and the stolen Atraxi crafts?”

“Yeah; why can’t those Nestene tossers be used for the power of good so we can leave a copy of ourselves there?”

“…because that’s extremely dangerous and you know it,” she scolded. Kate then apologized to Ken and Fiona, gave the driver instructions to take them _straight home_ , and made sure to text Gordon to make sure he stayed home until she could relieve him of Teenager Duty. She and Malcolm made their way towards the Tube, definitely not amused.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was Christmas Eve, _finally_ , and all was well at the Stewart Residence. Lex, Gordon, Fiona, and Ken were in the dining room playing Apples to Apples, while Malcolm and Kate snuggled on the couch with mugs of cocoa in their hands and _Love Actually_ on the telly, not that either were paying attention. The adults of the house were too busy concentrating on themselves, finally setting the mugs down on the coffee table and stretching out along the cushions.

“One of these days I need to double-check with the Doctor on our timeline and see if we can get in a week like this,” Kate mentioned, positioning herself fortuitously atop Malcolm’s waist. They kissed languidly, enjoying the faint, lingering taste of the risotto Malcolm had made on their tongues. The pawing stage had almost begun when the mobile in Kate’s back pocket rang, making them freeze in place.

“I don’t want to take it,” she whined, pressing their foreheads together. Malcolm copped a squeeze of her rear before taking the mobile and answering it himself.

“Scarfy, you have ten seconds to explain why I’m not running up the stairs for a shag in a half-way stately home or I’m going to give you such a bollocking that the _Other Scarfy_ will be able to feel the terror.”

“ _Well, considering half a panto group just turned into Vespiform while performing in Trafalgar Square… I think Director Stewart wants to be involved with this one_ ,” Osgood stated.

“Even killer giant bees hate panto—good on them,” he scowled. Kate ripped the mobile from his hand and tapped his nose with it.

“ _Wasps_ , you berk,” she muttered before putting the device to her ear. Malcolm waited sourly as his girlfriend rested on his chest, giving out orders like the professional she was. Eventually she hung up, abandoning the mobile next to the cocoa. “Now she’ll only bother us if it’s an _actual_ emergency.”

“An actual emergency to a Scarfy usually involves a lack of Jelly Babies in her office and getting drunk on banana daiquiris,” he scoffed.

“True; now, where were we?” Kate licked his ear, making him quiver. They were long past pawing and beginning to grope underneath clothing when the mobile rang again, vibrating its way off the coffee table.

Let the Scarfys call Jac; they had more important things to do.

 


End file.
